minima maxima sunt
by akurosa
Summary: The smallest things are the most important. An extension of 'this is the price that has been paid in full.' Please read author's profiles for full warnings.
1. Chapter 1

(happy 'seol nal'!)

_A shout, a falter, a sickening crunch and then, nothing at all._

The moment he opens his eyes is a painful one because it is the same moment he realizes he is awake and the throbbing between his temples blots out everything else, dulling his senses to a hyperawareness towards that can only be called _agony_. He groans or maybe he whimpers; the sound and the voices murmuring frantically around him, fall on deaf ears. He closes his eyes again and gladly sinks away from the pain.

_The metallic ring of steel clashing against each other and sting of gunpowder are the familiar marks of a fierce battle and he slides between enemy after enemy, casually knocking the marines away. It is insulting they've come this close to Thousand Sunny, close enough for the marines to climb aboard. However, out of the few things that can stand up to the newly reunited Straw Hat crew's almost maniac defense of their ship, a single marine vessel is not one of them._

_He walks down the deck, not bothering to look back at the sharp crack of his elbow meeting the nose of a marine. He is a man with a mission and his objective is standing on the edge of the adjacent marine vessel, bellowing orders._

_He crouches down to build the momentum for a jump-but then there is a shout, he falters, and with a sickening crunch, there is nothing at all._

The rest of him wakes up after his reflexes already brought up the remains in his churning stomach; the foul acid burns his mouth but the effort he makes in trying to wipe it away results in a slight twitch in his otherwise limp arms.

"We got you," A low voice speaks close to his right and despite the soothing calm, he flinches away. The voice is too close for comfort, too close for safety-

"…kay, it's just us," another voice, a different voice promises. _It's just us. _Those words mean something yet the nausea clamps down and from its steel grip, only blurred colors and garbled sounds bleed through.

"…per….doesn't look…good-" A beat later as his stomach turns against him a second time. Spitting and gasping for breath, he belatedly realizes the cushioned surface he is resting against isn't a bed. The world is tilted as if he is sitting up; he is hanging in another's grip. "...concussed... to check…movement.."

Something cold presses against his temple and eases the pain. He welcomes it, slumping against the grip despite himself. The moment of comfort is what lulls him into peace, compliant and content to surrender to his captors. It is why he doesn't pay attention to the touches that brush against his face-not until a light explodes in his eye and he seizes back. Darkness claims him once more.

_Strange jewels are scattered around him, glinting in the dark like broken glass. No, he takes a step forward and looks closer. The jewels are glowing of their own accord, the flush of color fending off darkness because they aren't jewels at all but fragments of memory, echoes of laughter and tears. Thousands of seconds and millions of moments flash by in each reflection and when he peers into the shards, the colors and sounds flood into his mind. The force knocks him to his knees but even in the breathless confusion, he instinctively understands that he is never to let go and struggles to keep up. The vivid memories are like sand however; the harder he tries to hold on, the faster they slip away until he no longer has anything, is completely empty except for -_

"Luffy," he chokes. A voice asks for his name again, and he gives it. Luffy, he repeats, holding on to the word, the name, the one memory that keeps coming back no matter how much the others slip away.


	2. Chapter 2

The world lurches with him still inside it and he wakes, alarmed but silent. The former is the reflex of a seasoned fighter, ready to react without conscious thought; the latter is something darker reminding him: _stay down, keep still, remember that you are __**alone**_.

"Chopper said to stay still… You're hurt."

He carefully moves his gaze to the stranger sitting beside him and instantly stiffens. Leaning against the chair and in easy reach for the stranger are three sleek katanas.

A swordsman, and a fighter, he realizes. He can see strength in the easy confidence the stranger holds himself with and the jagged scar on the man's chest speaks no less of him.

Beyond the immediate-_square room, no windows, one door, one obstacle between himself and the door, an enemy? Unknown_- what catches his eye is a worn straw hat placed by his knee, just within reach.

The swordsman notices the sweeping gaze and answers, as if in reassurance.

"They all came to check up on you when you were sleeping. They would have stayed but Chopper said only one person at a time in case you woke up panicked again."

"..'ey?" The word comes out garbled but the swordsman barely blinks.

"Nami, Usopp, everybody," The man answers before greeting the rhythmical thuds of a person approaching the room without even turning around. "Chopper, he's up, and I don't think he remembers anything."

In contrast to the calm assessment, the raccoon screeches in alarm.

(A reindeer, his mind whispers.)

However, the reindeer skids to a stop before him.

"I need to check your eye movement," and only when he gives a nod as permission does the reindeer take the last step to approach him. The reindeer-or doctor, he recognizes now-lifts his eyelid and flashes a light. He chokes down an instant wave of nausea. "Slow but responsive. Here, have these ice chips. Slowly, that's good. It should make your throat feel better. Do you remember your name?"

"Luffy," He pauses before realizing. "You… asked me this before?"

The reindeer shares a glance with the swordsman before nodding, almost apologetically. "It's standard procedure for concussion, especially one as bad as yours. Can you tell me where you are?"

He falls silent for a moment before realizing, that no, he had no idea.

"Can you tell me the last thing you remember?" The doctor, having correctly understood the silence as a negative, prods gently.

But realization is dawning because he tries to trace back to his last memory, only to realize he doesn't have one. That it's a gaping void, a complete blank emptiness and he has nothing, nothing but a name.

"It's okay," The doctor hastens to reassure. "It's to be expected, we can handle it-"

"No," The reply is immediate and instinctive and he tells himself not to wince at the darkness flicker across both attendees' faces. He may not have his memory but he remembers his first response after waking up. It is the reaction of somebody who is alone, who has nobody but himself to watch his back. There is no we.

(twoyearstwoyearstwoyearstwoy ears a voice chants but what is that even supposed to **mean**?)

He doesn't know where he is or how he got here and for all he knows, these people here could be the reason he was hurt in the first place-

"Zoro!" The doctor shouts and the swordsman steps forward, supposedly to subdue him, but both of them freeze in surprise as they watch blood drain from his face.

Zoro, he thinks. Chopper, Nami and Usopp and _Zoro_. These all mean something, he should know this but his mind is muddy and memories are veiled-_he should know_, _why does he not _know_? _And finally, his barely reined in panic breaks free and comes crashing down, because he is missing something impossibly important, _he is missing something_, what is he-

He lashes against the steel grip that pushes him down, lashes out again and again until something pricks into his skin and sends him spiraling down into darkness.

—

("His speech impairment is relatively minimum, and motor senses were a little off but that's to be expected. What's important is his memory loss. It's common for head trauma patients but I can't… I can't be sure it's not permanent until the swelling dies down.

"That means we have to wait until the swelling goes down, and that means we have to make_ him _wait until it goes down. Okay guys? We can't try to force him to remember; he'll only end up hurting himself. We _cannot_ let him panic."

"But Chopper, he forgot _everything_. That can't be normal. I mean we've all got hurt before before but never _this._"

"I know but I read Dr. Kureha's case studies and the effects of a concussion depend on the location and severity of the blow and..."

"…."

"We were never hit like _that_ before.")

—

He blinks awake and takes in the bulky form before him.

"Hey bro," The cyborg offers carefully. He pauses for a moment before continuing. "Don't move too quick, Chopper has you on the good stuff."

He racks through his near non-existent memory, remembers two shadows and the panic of being held down, and turns a wary gaze to the man.

The cyborg raises his hands in the universal signal of surrender and whistles, "It's been a while since I've seen you have that look."

"…'That look'?"

"Yeah, the look that means some super ass-whooping for anybody who gets in your way. It's been two," The stranger suddenly breaks off with a cough. "It's been too long since I've seen that."

"…Oh."

The cyborg is carefully watching him again in silence, and he finally understands the second of pause. It is the moment of wait and hope for him to remember the cyborg's name. When the moment doesn't come, the stranger clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. I'm Franky."

"Luffy," He answers in turn though an introduction is redundant. The man before him probably knows more about him than he knows about himself.

"Yeah," The man named Franky grins, and for some reason, the weight of the obvious affection pains him.

—

_There are so many memories, so many moments that are shattered by his feet. He digs the heel of his hands into his eyes, because even in his dreams, his head is hurting. The shards pull him in different directions, overcompensating for the blank void in his memory with blinding light and colors. He wants everything to stop, to calm, to be silenced because he is _tired_. _

_But that is not all. Despite himself, his gaze is drawn to the single piece of memory that doesn't shine; it burns dark from loss and grief. A churning dread catches in his heart and he turns away. _

_He is afraid._


	3. Chapter 3

His head still pains him, but between bouts of sleep and the medication the doctor gave him, it is dulled to a resonating ache so long as he does not move his head too quickly. He touches the edge of his bandages that circle his head and loop around his ear. They get in the way of his eye but the doctor has added a guase over it for protection. The bandages are fresh as well; the doctor must have changed the bandages while he was asleep.

The person by his bedside has also changed. A dark-haired woman sits by his bedside and though she has not once looked up from her book, he can't help feel from the way she holds herself, the woman is dangerous. He wishes he remembers to whom though.

"Minima maxima sunt," He glances back in surprise. When he tilts his head the woman continues. "Sometimes, the smallest things are the most important."

It takes a moment for him to understand the sudden comment and when he does, he shrugs, strangely embarrased. "Yeah, I remembered my name."

"No, you never forgot it," She looks at him for the first time and her gaze is piercing. "There's a difference and it's why you're still the man I know."

"For not forgetting my name?"

The woman smiles. "For not forgetting what matters."

_The pieces of memory each gleam different shades of colors: bright yellow for a battle on a restaurant ship at sea, pale blue for a cloudless sky stretched across an empty desert and cold white for a quest into the skies. These all are important to him, even if he does not remember why so he tries to pull the shards together into his arms. He does not realize he nicked his knuckles against a brown piece's edge until he watches the images flash by._

(He blinks blearily against the dim lights. He sees the shadow beside his bed and croaks, "You're here?"

The boy looks up from his chemistry set in surprise. "Yeah, I've been here for almost an hour now."

He tilts his head in confusion. He remembers the brown shard, colored with grief and bittersweet acceptance. "But… you left."

The boy's entire body stiffens as he looks at him in dawning understanding and almost-pain.

"I came back," The boy says, words strained. "This time I'm here to stay.")

He snaps awake, mind struggling between what he sees-another stranger, the same bed, the same room-and a strange recollection of cages and banana crocodiles and drowning. His vision clears and sharpens and he focuses on the dry wooden ceiling to remember how to breathe. It is a while before he registers the soothing humming is coming from his right.

"...You're a skeleton."

"It would seem so," The skeleton with an afro hums. "It's wonderful to see that you look much better! Chopper-san has just stepped out for the moment so I will stand instead and ask, do you remember your name?"

It is a testament to how drained he feels that he takes the fact that a skeleton moves and talks in stride. "Luffy."

"And age sir?"

He furrows his brows.

"Place of birth?"

He draws a blank.

"Well, Chopper-san has said that the swelling is only starting to go down so I suppose we have nothing to worry yet!"

"I don't remember you," He feels obligated to say because _no, _actually, there was a lot to worry about. Didn't these people realize he didn't remember _anything_? He tries to swallow back the unease.

"Well, of course; it was quite a nasty bump to the head. One mustn't expect everything to come back so easily."

"It might never come back at all," His hackles are raised in the face of the skeleton's simple nonchalance. When he pushes on, it is ruthless. "What are you going to do then, stay by my bedside and take shifts every hour like you're all doing now? Take care of me forever?"

But again, the skeleton answers with puzzled patience. "Yes, of course. If that is what becomes necessary."

His heart catches in his throat; he can't imagine what kind of man he had been to have earned such honest devotion. He turns away.

_He tries to ignore the dark shard but memories flit by at the edge of his vision. A person stands tall, against the light and full of impossible strength. He remembers thinking this person would never be beaten, couldn't possibly be beaten._

_He doesn't (yet) remember being proved wrong._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: i hope nobody saw this coming. **

_It's that memory again; dark and deep in its grief, a void of color, and a shard of darkness against an explosion of light. Just acknowledging it pains him yet he knows that the darkness shaped him, and it is one of the missing pieces that will make him who he used to be. The man who they know him to be. _

_So against every instinct screaming otherwise, __he takes a deep breath and reaches out for the edges of the shard. He __braces against the assault of memories that flood through, which batter an already battered mind with excessive colors and sounds. __Each memory is blurred around the edges and merged into a single, fleeting impression but he is ready this time. He breaks it down, binding each memory within itself so he can piece it back together himself. When he finally takes a step back, he can make out fierce strength, a sad smile and all he's ever looked up to. His breath catches, because he knows he knew this, that this was all he had known once. _

_And then when grief hits, it hits hard and all he knows_ now_ is the gaping, freezing hole in his chest and the woes of a child whose world is shattered; a groan escapes unbidden because the aching loss is too sudden, too raw and too_ _real. __He isn't relieving a memory, he is_ living _it again__ and his throat locks up with __the crushing realization that their promise was for null, even though they promised, even though _**_she _**_**promised-**_

His eyes snap to the touch of a hand on his brow and he finds the swordsman hovering over him. With the residue of grief and pain still clouding his mind, he closes his eyes and grits out a sharp, "What?"

The question cracks like a whip but the swordsman doesn't blink in the face of such animosity. He only presses gently down a second before letting go. "You looked like you were having a nightmare."

The raw emotions lurch back before such quiet affection. He screws his eyes shut and it isn't only because of the light. He is tired; he wants it all to stop.

"I can't do this," is his conclusion; he can't stand the looks, the love, because _he doesn't remember_. He's not the person they remember and care for, and he doesn't feel like he'll ever be. "I'm not... I'm not."

But the swordsman only replies, "You can."

He shakes his head, "I can't."

"You can."

"No, I _can't_-"

"You will." The swordsman says. "You have to."

If he were himself, if he had all of his memories and known what to look for and listen to, he would have seen the flash of pain or heard the strain in the words. But he isn't and so asks, "Why?" instead and the question is low and dangerous and might just be the last straw.

The man meets the gaze without flinching, but there is a strange hesitation and for the shortest moment, the man's gaze flickers down to the bed.

He looks down and finds that the worn straw hat is still sitting innocuously by his knee.

When he looks back up, the man-as if coming to a decision-suddenly breaks into a grin.

"Because I swore on that hat to become the Pirate King," he explains. "But I'm going to need the world's greatest swordsman beside me to be that."

The declaration sends his barely balanced world straight off its axis because suddeny, the world stretches apart and at the same time crumples into itself with him trapped in between, spinning and swirling in his own head as he realizes _this is what he was missing._

He thinks of the look the doctor and this man had exchanged when he introduced himself. He thinks of the uncomfortable unease that began when the doctor called a name.

He thinks of the careful way none of them ever called his name.

(_For not forgetting my name? He had asked and the woman had answered, No, for not forgetting what matters._)

Still gripping his head, he stares back at the man standing before him, at the easy confidence and the jagged scar on his chest.

At the tousled raven black hair and achingly familiar grin.

_(For not forgetting my name? He had asked and she had answered, _no.)

"Luffy," He chokes and the world stops spinning, balanced once more, because Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro finally remembers.


	5. Chapter 5

_The secret behind Zoro's wound is revealed. And the title minima maxima sunt was also a joke on all of you. The smallest things are the most important, eh? But a question: at what point in chapter four did you realize it wasn't Luffy because I thought the 'she promised' in the beginning was a dead give-away. _

"It was pretty adorable you know," Nami smirks over Usopp's lies that he wasn't worried at all and Franky's manly brawling for 'supa epic bromance'. "Watching you think you were Luffy."

Zoro's glare could peel paint but Nami, being the witch she is, has the galls to laugh at him. Zoro scowls yet doesn't press the issue because the tangerine is still left on top of the book Robin had been reading, along with the chemistry set pushed into the corner; proof that his friends never left his side, even when he didn't know it mattered. He instinctively runs his hand along his white sword's hilt("We left them by the chair because you kept knocking them down") as he shifts through his memories; one particular memory still draws a blank.

"I don't get it," Zoro allows himself to settle before his friends, all who despite Chopper's half-hearted warnings have crammed themselves into the room. "What the hell happened?"

"You got your ass whopped, that's what happened marimo," Sanji snorted as he bit into his cigarette; he knew better than to light one in front of Chopper's patient-even if the patient was an idiot who had muscles for brains.

"Yohohoho, you gave us quite a fright Zoro-san," Brook pitched in and Zoro frowned all the same for he'd spent the past two years training to become stronger-not to drop like a sack of potatoes at a battle with measly marines. As if sensing his discomfort, Robin spoke up, effectively silencing the rest.

"Why don't you start with what you remember?"

_The metalic ring of steel clashing against each other and sting of gunpowder are the familiar marks of a fierce battle and he slides between enemy after enemy, almost casually knocking the marines away. It is insulting they've come this close to Thousand Sunny, close enough for the marines to climb aboard. However, out of the few things that can stand up to the newly reunited Straw Hat crew's fierce and almost maniac defense of their ship, a single marine vessel is not one of them._

_He walks down the deck, not bothering to look back at the sharp crack of his elbow meeting the nose of a marine. He is a man with a mission and his objective is standing on the edge of the adjacent marine vessel, bellowing orders._

"The head of the marines," Zoro touches his sore forehead. "Did he get me? I was going to take him out."

Sanji clears his throat. "You did."

"Then who got me?"

It is a moment of uneasy pause as the Straw Hats glance at each other before their captain speaks up for the first time. Luffy quietly admits, "I did."

_He walks down the deck, not bothering to look back at the sharp crack of his elbow meeting the nose of a marine. He is a man with a mission and his objective is standing on the edge of the adjacent marine vessel, bellowing orders._

_He crouches down to build the momentum for a jump but then-_

_"Zoro!"_

_The swordsman freezes in his tracks and twists around to find Luffy with his arm pulled back. But upon meeting his captain's gaze, Zoro's hesitation chills into something different and he turns away with his swords raised-an obvious refusal._

_He jumps and the momentum brings his swords down in a swipe, knocking the enemy marine off his feet but Zoro doesn't see that because he has jumped __the exact moment Luffy let his fist fly. Sanji cries out a warning and Luffy jerks in surprise but it is too late; there is a sickening crunch an__d then, there is nothing at all._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: The final chapter! This is an extension of 'price that has been paid in full' so there is no real conclusion but I just want to explain that I wrote this with the Punk Hazard arc in mind. Zoro having to explicitly tell Luffy to leave the dragon to him and Sanji's reaction to when Zoro reprimanded Luffy to 'stop dicking around' sparked this idea that maybe, before the Punk Hazard Arc, something like these six chapters could have happened.**

"You were _supposed_ to move."

"I told you I wouldn't."

"You were supposed to _move_."

"I was closer," Zoro replies just as tersely because he finally remembers what he did and why he did it. He has no regrets. "I had him and-"

"I told you-"

"_You_-"

"Enough!" Chopper shouts, startling all of them. He pushes his patient back, forcing Zoro down. He has kept vigil often enough to recognize the lines of pain in Zoro's posture even when the swordsman himself will deny it. "Stop it, both of you!"

The strained distress snaps everybody else into action.

"OUT!" Nami orders and at her cue, Sanji and Franky grab Luffy by his arms to drag him outside; the pirate doesn't put up a fight. The rest of them, throwing uneasy looks between their captain and their green-headed swordsman trace out as well with Robin in the lead. Nami, after watching all of them go, turns to place a careful hand on Zoro's elbow.

"When you went down," She tries. "When Luffy hit you and you-you just dropped, we thought-_Luffy_ thought," She stops and swallows hard, having to steel herself. When she sees the straw hat still placed on the bed, her gaze softens as her resolve hardens. "We thought we lost you Zoro, and the problem is we're not strong enough for that. We probably won't ever be, but especially not now. So whatever is going on between you and Luffy, _fix _it."

—

Chopper frets, worried that the shouting match aggravated his injuries and because it is Chopper, Zoro obediently tilts his head back to comply to Chopper's insistence that he check the wound.

(When the bandages slipped off but the half-darkness stayed, Zoro may have stilled but Chopper doesn't ask and Zoro doesn't answer.)

—

The one to break the strangely tense silence Luffy left behind is the love-cook.

"Marimo," Sanji greets as he places a tray down on the bed table. The meal is exactly as Chopper had asked for and the doctor, who is reading while keeping an eye over his patient from his desk, nods in approval. Sanji whistles. "You look like hell."

"Screw you," Zoro grumbles though he is quick to accept the food in grudging thanks. When Sanji makes no move to leave, he smirks. "Gonna feed me yourself?"

"Screw you," Sanji echoes, immediately and almost absentmindedly. He is flicking his lighter open and close his lighter. Zoro is sniffing the soup when Sanji suddenly asks. "You know it was just an accident right?"

The swordsman instantly stiffens, back tensing like that of an irritated cat's.

"No, shut up and listen," Sanji's eyes narrow because he can recognize defensive anger brimming when he sees it. "Two years is a damn long time. We can't... We can't help not being the same. Accidents happen, but all of us-even Luffy-are trying, so be the idiot you are and brood on, but quit blaming Luffy; he's so miserable he won't come near the kitchen."

Sanji adds _idiots _under his breath. The two are and he's stuck running interference because it's been two years two years and watching Luffy and Zoro ripping into each other is not what Sanji waited for. He raises his eyebrow in challenge, in question, daring Zoro to explain.

Zoro, being Zoro, rises up to the bait and grumbles. "It's the new world from now on. We can't screw up like this; it'll get all of us killed."

The cook takes in the seemingly non-linear answer, Zoro's glowering and realizes. "You're not pissed at Luffy for hitting you. You're pissed at yourself for getting hit."

Zoro twitches and Sanji, who is fluent in marimo-speak, understands it as the confirmation it is. He balks.

"So Luffy thinks you're pissed at him and won't talk to you and you're too pissed at yourself to talk to him?" Sanji throws his hands in the air. "What the _hell?_ You two spent the past hours sulking and brooding like some love-sick teenagers-"

"Oi!"

"Putting the rest of _us _in misery and what the _hell?_" Sanji immediately turns to leave; his remaining course of action is obvious: "C'mon Chopper, let's go tell the rubber idiot a marimo idiot is looking for him."

"Love-cook," Zoro immediately shoots to the retreating back but the cook snorts, incredulous.

"_Idiots_."

—

Mere minutes after the cook's departure, familiar footsteps pad down the hall before the door swings open. "Luffy."

Luffy answers, just as quietly. "Zoro."

—

(_"He's mad at me."_

_"Yes," Robin agrees carefully. "But perhaps not for the same reasons you think him to be."_

_"I hit him," Luffy says because no one could deny that; that fact was laid bare for all of them to see. "I _hurt_ him."_

_Robin does not try to offer condolences; she only asks. "Why didn't you let him take on the marine, Luffy-san?"_

_"...I could have handled the marine." _

_"Did you not trust him?"_

_Luffy's head snaps up. "I trust him with my life." _

_"Yes," Robin pauses. "But do you trust him with his own?"_

_And the rubber pirate stares at his friend while he thinks of another; Zoro who was steady strength that doesn't flinch in battle. Zoro who was fierce loyalty that would never yield an inch of ground. Zoro, who cared more about his crew mates than he cared about himself._

_Zoro, who would rather die before he let his friends get hurt._

_"No." Luffy remembers the scrutinizing look Zoro had given him before Zoro had turned away and ignored his order, the uncertainty in the gaze that on any lesser man, would have been fear. "And neither does he."_)


End file.
